How Delicate is the Rose
by Mermaidhuntress
Summary: How Frozen would have ended had a certain Russian's ward showed up at the coronation ball. Oneshot


"Her Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle!" She stopped in front of the throne as everyone clapped.

The huge ballroom was brilliantly lit with gaslight, the three crystal chandeliers above glittering in the light. Musicians were playing at one end, but as she was announced they stopped, along with the dancing couples on the floor.

The Duke of Weselton approached, whisking off her poor sister when she refused the first dance with him. Then she was left alone, laughing at Anna's petrified expression of horror as the little old man pranced around her.

When the dance finally, mercifully, ended, Anna quickly left the Duke. "He was sprightly," Elsa chuckled.

"Especially for a man in heels," Anna gasped, rubbing her ankles. They both laughed as they watched the old man accost yet another lady for the next dance. Elsa took a deep breath, trying to draw up memories of the sisterly affection they had shared as children, and tried to translate that into the present.

"So this is what a real party is like," she said. Beside her, Anna smiled, still not quite sure how to deal with a sister she had seen only three times in the past twelve years.

Elsa caught a whiff of something. "What is that amazing _smell_?" she wondered, glancing around, her eyes drawn to the dessert table. Anna inhaled also, then they both looked at each other, grins stretching across their faces. "_Chocolate_!" they exclaimed.

A comfortably silence enveloped them for a long moment. Anna hummed to herself, rocking a little on her heels. Elsa scanned the crowd, slightly overwhelmed by everything. But wasn't this what she had been trained for ever since she was old enough to hold a soup spoon? These people looked up to her as a queen, and she had to be there to be one.

A massive man was approaching. He looked magnificent in his military reds, with meticulously straight medals and pins, a silver sash stretching across his chest to his waist, half covered by his massive white beard.

"Duke Nicholaus, of Petrozavodsk," Kai said, introducing the big man. "Cousin to the Tsar, and His Imperial Majesty's representative."

"Your Majesty, Your Highness." The big man had a Russian accent so thick she could cut it with a butter knife. He bowed to both of them, his manners easy and unaffected. Elsa instantly liked him.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I remember your mother visited once to visit her cousin, the Tsar's consort, and I found her to be a very engaging person. She was very, hmm . . . _Что такое слово_ . . . funny. _Да_. I found myself wondering if you were like her."

She smiled, even though her breath was cut short at the mention of her mother. Her mother, who was lying in the ocean somewhere. "I thank you, Your Grace," she forced herself to say, curtsying.

He recognized the flash of pain in her eyes and he bowed his head. "да. I was terribly sad when I heard the news of your parents, ребенок." She gave him a trembling, watery smile, forcing her tears to freeze before they could even show themselves.

The Duke stepped back with a respectful bow, the medals on his chest chiming softly against each other.

"May I present my ward, Jack Overland, recently returned from his Tour of the Continent." He pulled a young man out from behind him.

The first thing she noticed was his hair. White as the driven snow, it looked like it never stayed combed for very long. His icy blue eyes watched her nervously, as if not certain how she would react to him. He reminded her of a wild animal, wary of other humans, careful of whom to trust.

"Your Majesty," he murmured, bowing over her hand. He looked uncomfortable in his finery, but he did not look silly.

Duke Nicholaus inclined his head. "He is my . . . protégé, I suppose. He is very talented."

The sisters looked at the young man, who stood shyly under their scrutiny. "And what is it you do well in?" Anna asked finally, breaking the awkward silence.

The young man started, just like a wild hare who has realized it has been spotted. "I-I . . . I am in . . . art. Mostly, um, icing."

Elsa's brows rose. "You decorate . . . ah, pastries?"

He flushed in embarrassment and his guardian gripped his shoulder, as both comfort and a warning.

Elsa looked back at the Duke with a smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you both," she said. Then they were both gone into the mass of people flocking about the floor.

Anna cleared her throat. "Well, the Duke was . . . well, he was . . ."

"He was nice, Anna," the Queen said harshly, refusing to let the painful memories of their parents he had conjured with those few words overwhelm her. To be overwhelmed was to lose control. She dragged in a breath, forcing herself to suppress her grief and her fear.

_Conceal, don't feel._

And her father's soft, concerned voice. _Don't let it show._

Anna instantly knew that distant, yearning look in her sister's eyes. "Elsa," Anna said pleadingly. "You can't keep thinking about them. You can't mourn them forever."

"Did you mourn _at all_?" she snapped. She instantly saw the hurt look cross her sister's face.

Before she could anything more she would regret, the Duke's ward was in front of them, a gloved hand held out, his other arm tucked behind his back. "Your Majesty, would you care to dance?" he asked with a shy smile.

She was at a loss for words. She exchanged surprised glances with Anna, who shrugged, obviously as lost as she was.

Taking care that her gloves were still tightly in place, she took his proffered arm and stepped off the dais, straightening her skirts, her long purple cloak trailing behind her.

People drew back as the newly-crowned Queen took to the floor with the Russian Duke's ward.

They matched well, not only in colour palate, but in skill of the dance. A whisper rippled around the ballroom as the gossips started speculating on the chances of a royal marriage in the autumn. But most people were surprised that their hermit Queen was publicly dancing with a complete stranger.

She had to admit he was a wonderful dancer, light on his feet, graceful in his movements. After being isolated in the castle for most of her whole life, it was strange dancing with someone. Touching them, despite there being a pair of gloves between them.

"The scepter was lovely, don't you think?" he said suddenly in a light voice as he guided her across the floor.

She felt cold creep up her spine at those words. ". . . Yes. It was. It has been in the royal family for generations."

"But no hand that has touched it was ever quite like yours."

Her eyes snapped to his face. He was regarding her with an intense expression. "What do you mean?" she asked guardedly, her tone growing frosty.

He bent his head a little so that the other couple around them wouldn't overhear him. "The scepter looked especially beautiful with the ice," he whispered in her ear. She jerked wildly away from him, but he kept a firm grip on her waist. She looked at their entwined hands and gasped.

Ice was creeping across their fingers, covering their gloves. She jerked her hand out of his and stepped back. Bits of ice fell to the marble floor with a faint musical tinkle. "I am so sorry!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, horrified at what had happened. Above the glove, her eyes were huge and terrified.

They had stopped in the middle of the floor, but couples swept around them, too absorbed in the music and their conversation with their partners to notice that their sovereign had stopped dancing. He looked down at her, his eyes as blue as the ice that still coated his glove. "What makes you think that it was your fault?"

"Because, I—you . . . That is . . ." As she watched in bewilderment, he slowly stripped off one glove, then the other. She sucked in a shocked breath when she saw snowflakes twisting about his fingertips, tiny and perfect in their delicacy. He held out his hand, palm up. An offering.

Furrowing her brow, she tugged off her own glove and, through mere curiosity mixed with not a little fear, placed her hand in his, the first time she had touched any person's bare hand in twelve years. Glowing between their fingers were shards of icy blue-white light, illuminating their skin.

"Is _this_ what you meant by icing?" she breathed, staring at the snowflakes in awe. He smiled a little, still a little uncertain.

"Do you want to see what I can _really_ do? Meet me in the garden," he whispered, his breath frosty against her skin. For the first time in her life, Elsa felt hope. It was intoxicating. Biting her lip to keep from grinning, she dropped into a graceful curtsy. Then he was gone.

* * *

><p>Anna was having the time of her life. It was the first time she remembered being part of an actual ball, not watching from the top of the stairs.<p>

Anna had seen the prince from the dock, Hans, she remembered his name was, and was making her way through the crowd. He was really the only person she really knew, besides Kai, the House Steward. But as she made her way across the dance floor to him, Elsa came hurrying past, her long cloak billowing out behind her. Anna was shocked to see such a huge grin on her sister's face. She grabbed her arm. "What _happened_?" Anna cried. Elsa's face was practically glowing.

"He did. _He_ happened!"

"That's grea—Wait, what? What do you mean . . .he? Who's _he_?" Elsa eagerly pulled away, but Anna held her arm tightly, forcing the Queen to look at her younger sister.

Elsa turned about and grasped Anna's hand in both of hers, careful even now, her face practically glowing. Anna had never seen her sister show this much emotion.

"You remember the Russian Duke's ward?" She gave a breathless, I-can't-believe-it laugh, her blue eyes wide and excited. Her cheeks were flushed, unlike her usual pale ivory.

But Anna understood exactly what was happening. She had dreamed it enough over the many years. But even she understood the need for prudence when you were the ruler of an entire kingdom. She gasped. "_What_? You just met him . . . what? An hour ago?"

Elsa broke away, her gaze intent on the ballroom doors. "He understands me!" she cried over her shoulder as she darted through them, out into the summer night.

"Elsa! Wait!" Anna gathered up her skirts and ran after her sister.

* * *

><p>He was standing in the middle of the rose garden, looking up at the moon. He was holding a tall, knobby shepherd's crook that contrasted oddly with his evening finery. She saw that he had removed his boots and was barefoot. She couldn't cover up her laugh and he heard her.<p>

He looked over his shoulder at her, a bright grin stretching across his face. This was nothing like the shy smiles she had seen in the ballroom, and she had the feeling that this was just for her.

She reached up to the brooch that held her cloak. Releasing it, she draped the heavy purple fabric over the outstretched arms of a statue. She had managed to lose Anna in the topiary maze. She reached out to touch one of the roses, smiling as the silky texture of the flower. She quickly pulled back her hand when frost rimmed the petals.

"Beautiful." He had come up behind her, watching as she had accidently used her magic.

She looked at it for a moment, troubled by the frozen life before her. "I-I guess." She looked over her shoulder at him. But he wasn't looking at the rose. He gave her a crooked smile, pulling the shepherd's crook from his shoulder and touching the tip to the ground.

Then he was flying.

Elsa gasped, her hand going to her mouth. He looked down at her, the evening summer breeze ruffling his hair. Then he dropped lower to the ground, his staff skimming the ground. Frost bloomed in feathery patterns on the carefully manicured lawn and he started laughing.

"How are you doing that?" she called after him. He turned in midair and flew back to her.

"I've always had this magic," he said, skimming the surface of the fountain, finally perching on the top bowl, snowflakes swirling around him. "For as long as I can remember."

"Were you born with it?"

He shrugged. "Born, or blessed. Who knows?" He leaned forward, resting an arm on the fountain's top bowl. "Let's see what you can do," he said, in his voice a challenge.

She glanced around the garden, as if looking for inspiration. Then she let the magic slip through her hands, twining with the branches, creating lacy patterns on the surface of the fountain. A swirl of snow spun around the garden, winking and glittering with a thousand different colors from the golden light that spilled from the ballroom windows.

She twirled a finger, and a small, lopsided snowman grew from the snow that had fallen. One of the many things she remembered from her childhood. She hadn't had this much fun since she was a child, playing games with Anna.

With Anna.

Thoughts of her sister instantly brought her crashing back to reality. She froze, her hand still outstretched. The armor around her heart slammed back into place and she drew back, cradling her ungloved hand in the other, fear worming its way through her once again. _Conceal, don't feel _. . . Jack saw her expression change, his own joy fading as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. "What's wrong?"

"This." She pulled in a shuddering breath as she held up a hand, glittering magic swirling around her fingertips. "We had to conceal it. With no one to help me control it, I started to . . .to . . ." She faltered, barely being able to meet his worried gaze. Her thoughts felt scattered, and pulling them back together was painful. "My sister . . . I . . . _hurt_ her." She felt like she was pleading, but . . . for _what_? For him to understand? For him to help her? She didn't know.

She hadn't realized that her hands were shaking until he reached out and took them, stilling them between his own cold, pale hands. "It's going to be all right. This," he said, gesturing around them at the snow and twining frost with their entwined hands, "this is beautiful. It is not a curse. It is a gift." He bit his bottom lip as his brow furrowed in thought. "And you _can control it_. It does not control you. And I will help you."

She felt like she was going to cry. But she stopped herself before she did anything overemotional. Instead, she offered a hesitant smile. "Thank you."

"Elsa! I was looking all over for y—Oh." Elsa and Jack turned to see Anna standing in the door, silhouetted by the warm, golden light from the ballroom. She looked almost exactly like the statue that was wearing Elsa's coronation cloak, down to the frozen features. "Oh _my_." Then Elsa realized why her sister was stunned. She had forgotten all about the snow and frost that encircled the garden in a very unseasonable winter.

"Is it that time?" Jack said in astonishment. He bowed to Anna, managing to still look elegant even though he was no longer wearing his boots. "Forgive us, Your Highness. The Queen and I were having a very . . . involved discussion and we lost track of the time." Jack lowered his voice. "This is the perfect time. You can do it."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would never harm her sister again. She would never be the monster the Troll had foretold she would be.

And as she was thinking these things, she _felt_ the magic. It was there, swirling around her in a great glittering web. And she was at the center of it all. She could envision it in her mind's eye. She felt Anna, a warm, familiar presence, one that she had greatly missed. And she felt Jack beside her, not as familiar as Anna, but more like her. The same glittering, icy magic that dwelled within her was in him, too. She wasn't entirely alone.

She started pulling the magic back into her, where it coiled and filled her, no longer a fearful presence, but one that she took comfort in, knowing that it was no longer a foreign, painful burden. She was no longer ruled by the fear of hurting anyone.

The threads of magic dwindled as she drew them toward her, slowly tapering off until there was nothing left for her to feel.

She finally opened her eyes and looked at a pristine, flowering midsummer garden, every leaf, every flower, glowing under the light of the moon high above. Everything living and growing, not killed or wilted by frost.

It was back to how it was. There was no ice or snow in sight. She felt the magic inside, but she knew that she could control it. She flung her arms around Jack's neck, sobbing. After living her whole in fear, she felt free.

"Thank you," she whispered, shaking. He put his arms around her, hugging her tightly in return.

"I did nothing," he said quietly. "That was all you."

"You . . . you can . . ." Anna took a step forward, her eyes widening. She gasped and Elsa found her sister staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. "I _remember_." She spotted the snowman by the fountain. "Olaf!"

"Y-you . . . you _remember_?" Elsa was at a loss for words. "But I-I thought the troll had . . . had . . ." The tears finally came tracking down her cheeks in lacy patterns much like frost. Then she was running across the ground, hugging her sister. "I am so sorry for what I have done to you," she sobbed. "I've taken your memories, your trust in me, _everything_."

Anna felt bewildered. Her sister was actually _touching_ her? Voluntarily?

Elsa pulled away, the frosty tears slowly melting on her cheeks, turning into regular tears. She sniffed, then turned to Jack, her hands still on Anna's shoulders. He ducked his head a little. He was still leaning against his staff like an old man, but he was grinning. "You _did_ do something." she said with a watery smile. "You gave me back my life." Her eyes were practically glowing as they met his.

"Thank you."


End file.
